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The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Tempest



December, 1997  [Etext #1135]





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1612



THE TEMPEST



by William Shakespeare







DRAMATIS PERSONAE



  ALONSO, King of Naples

  SEBASTIAN, his brother

  PROSPERO, the right Duke of Milan

  ANTONIO, his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan

  FERDINAND, son to the King of Naples

  GONZALO, an honest old counsellor



    Lords

  ADRIAN

  FRANCISCO

  CALIBAN, a savage and deformed slave

  TRINCULO, a jester

  STEPHANO, a drunken butler

  MASTER OF A SHIP

  BOATSWAIN

  MARINERS



  MIRANDA, daughter to Prospero



  ARIEL, an airy spirit 



    Spirits

  IRIS

  CERES

  JUNO

  NYMPHS

  REAPERS

  Other Spirits attending on Prospero









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SCENE:

A ship at sea; afterwards an uninhabited island







THE TEMPEST

ACT I. SCENE 1



On a ship at sea; a tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning

heard



Enter a SHIPMASTER and a BOATSWAIN



  MASTER. Boatswain!

  BOATSWAIN. Here, master; what cheer?

  MASTER. Good! Speak to th' mariners; fall to't yarely, or

    we run ourselves aground; bestir, bestir.               Exit



                       Enter MARINERS



  BOATSWAIN. Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts!

    yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to th' master's

    whistle. Blow till thou burst thy wind, if room enough.



          Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND

                     GONZALO, and OTHERS



  ALONSO. Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master? 

    Play the men.

  BOATSWAIN. I pray now, keep below.

  ANTONIO. Where is the master, boson?

  BOATSWAIN. Do you not hear him? You mar our labour;

    keep your cabins; you do assist the storm.

  GONZALO. Nay, good, be patient.

  BOATSWAIN. When the sea is. Hence! What cares these

    roarers for the name of king? To cabin! silence! Trouble

    us not.

  GONZALO. Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.

  BOATSWAIN. None that I more love than myself. You are

    counsellor; if you can command these elements to

    silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not

    hand a rope more. Use your authority; if you cannot, give

    thanks you have liv'd so long, and make yourself ready

    in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so

    hap.-Cheerly, good hearts!-Out of our way, I say.

 Exit

  GONZALO. I have great comfort from this fellow. Methinks

    he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is 

    perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging;

    make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth

    little advantage. If he be not born to be hang'd, our

    case is miserable.                                    Exeunt



                     Re-enter BOATSWAIN



  BOATSWAIN. Down with the topmast. Yare, lower, lower!

    Bring her to try wi' th' maincourse.  [A cry within]  A

    plague upon this howling! They are louder than the

    weather or our office.



           Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO



    Yet again! What do you here? Shall we give o'er, and

    drown? Have you a mind to sink?

  SEBASTIAN. A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous,

    incharitable dog!

  BOATSWAIN. Work you, then.

  ANTONIO. Hang, cur; hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker; 

    we are less afraid to be drown'd than thou art.

  GONZALO. I'll warrant him for drowning, though the ship were

    no stronger than a nutshell, and as leaky as an unstanched

    wench.

  BOATSWAIN. Lay her a-hold, a-hold; set her two courses; off

    to sea again; lay her off.



                    Enter MARINERS, Wet

  MARINERS. All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost!

                                                          Exeunt

  BOATSWAIN. What, must our mouths be cold?

  GONZALO. The King and Prince at prayers!

    Let's assist them,

    For our case is as theirs.

  SEBASTIAN. I am out of patience.

  ANTONIO. We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards.

    This wide-chopp'd rascal-would thou mightst lie drowning

    The washing of ten tides!

  GONZALO. He'll be hang'd yet,

    Though every drop of water swear against it, 

    And gape at wid'st to glut him.

    [A confused noise within: Mercy on us!

    We split, we split! Farewell, my wife and children!

    Farewell, brother! We split, we split, we split!]

  ANTONIO. Let's all sink wi' th' King.

  SEBASTIAN. Let's take leave of him.

                                    Exeunt ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN

  GONZALO. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for

    an acre of barren ground-long heath, brown furze, any

    thing. The wills above be done, but I would fain die

    dry death.                                            Exeunt









SCENE 2



The Island. Before PROSPERO'S cell



Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA



  MIRANDA. If by your art, my dearest father, you have

    Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.

    The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,

    But that the sea, mounting to th' welkin's cheek,

    Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered

    With those that I saw suffer! A brave vessel,

    Who had no doubt some noble creature in her,

    Dash'd all to pieces! O, the cry did knock

    Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perish'd.

    Had I been any god of power, I would

    Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere

    It should the good ship so have swallow'd and

    The fraughting souls within her.

  PROSPERO. Be conected;

    No more amazement; tell your piteous heart

    There's no harm done.

  MIRANDA. O, woe the day! 

  PROSPERO. No harm.

    I have done nothing but in care of thee,

    Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who

    Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing

    Of whence I am, nor that I am more better

    Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,

    And thy no greater father.

  MIRANDA. More to know

    Did never meddle with my thoughts.

  PROSPERO. 'Tis time

    I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,

    And pluck my magic garment from me. So,

                                          [Lays down his mantle]

    Lie there my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort.

    The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd

    The very virtue of compassion in thee,

    I have with such provision in mine art

    So safely ordered that there is no soul-

    No, not so much perdition as an hair

    Betid to any creature in the vessel 

    Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink.

    Sit down, for thou must now know farther.

  MIRANDA. You have often

    Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp'd,

    And left me to a bootless inquisition,

    Concluding 'Stay; not yet.'

  PROSPERO. The hour's now come;

    The very minute bids thee ope thine ear.

    Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember

    A time before we came unto this cell?

    I do not think thou canst; for then thou wast not

    Out three years old.

  MIRANDA. Certainly, sir, I can.

  PROSPERO. By what? By any other house, or person?

    Of any thing the image, tell me, that

    Hath kept with thy remembrance?

  MIRANDA. 'Tis far off,

    And rather like a dream than an assurance

    That my remembrance warrants. Had I not

    Four, or five, women once, that tended me? 

  PROSPERO. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it

    That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else

    In the dark backward and abysm of time?

    If thou rememb'rest aught, ere thou cam'st here,

    How thou cam'st here thou mayst.

  MIRANDA. But that I do not.

  PROSPERO. Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,

    Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and

    A prince of power.

  MIRANDA. Sir, are not you my father?

  PROSPERO. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and

    She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father

    Was Duke of Milan, and his only heir

    And princess no worse issued.

  MIRANDA. O, the heavens!

    What foul play had we that we came from thence?

    Or blessed was't we did?

  PROSPERO. Both, both, my girl.

    By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd thence;

    But blessedly holp hither. 

  MIRANDA. O, my heart bleeds

    To think o' th' teen that I have turn'd you to,

    Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther.

  PROSPERO. My brother and thy uncle, call'd Antonio-

    I pray thee, mark me that a brother should

    Be so perfidious. He, whom next thyself

    Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put

    The manage of my state; as at that time

    Through all the signories it was the first,

    And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed

    In dignity, and for the liberal arts

    Without a parallel, those being all my study-

    The government I cast upon my brother

    And to my state grew stranger, being transported

    And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle-

    Dost thou attend me?

  MIRANDA. Sir, most heedfully.

  PROSPERO. Being once perfected how to grant suits,

    How to deny them, who t' advance, and who

    To trash for over-topping, new created 

    The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd 'em,

    Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key

    Of officer and office, set all hearts i' th' state

    To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was

    The ivy which had hid my princely trunk

    And suck'd my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st not.

  MIRANDA. O, good sir, I do!

  PROSPERO. I pray thee, mark me.

    I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated

    To closeness and the bettering of my mind

    With that which, but by being so retir'd,

    O'er-priz'd all popular rate, in my false brother

    Awak'd an evil nature; and my trust,

    Like a good parent, did beget of him

    A falsehood, in its contrary as great

    As my trust was; which had indeed no limit,

    A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded,

    Not only with what my revenue yielded,

    But what my power might else exact, like one

    Who having into truth, by telling of it, 

    Made such a sinner of his memory,

    To credit his own lie-he did believe

    He was indeed the Duke; out o' th' substitution,

    And executing th' outward face of royalty

    With all prerogative. Hence his ambition growing-

    Dost thou hear?

  MIRANDA. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

  PROSPERO. To have no screen between this part he play'd

    And him he play'd it for, he needs will be

    Absolute Milan. Me, poor man-my library

    Was dukedom large enough-of temporal royalties

    He thinks me now incapable; confederates,

    So dry he was for sway, wi' th' King of Naples,

    To give him annual tribute, do him homage,

    Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend

    The dukedom, yet unbow'd-alas, poor Milan!-

    To most ignoble stooping.

  MIRANDA. O the heavens!

  PROSPERO. Mark his condition, and th' event, then tell me

    If this might be a brother. 

  MIRANDA. I should sin

    To think but nobly of my grandmother:

    Good wombs have borne bad sons.

  PROSPERO. Now the condition:

    This King of Naples, being an enemy

    To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit;

    Which was, that he, in lieu o' th' premises,

    Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,

    Should presently extirpate me and mine

    Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan

    With all the honours on my brother. Whereon,

    A treacherous army levied, one midnight

    Fated to th' purpose, did Antonio open

    The gates of Milan; and, i' th' dead of darkness,

    The ministers for th' purpose hurried thence

    Me and thy crying self.

  MIRANDA. Alack, for pity!

    I, not rememb'ring how I cried out then,

    Will cry it o'er again; it is a hint

    That wrings mine eyes to't. 

  PROSPERO. Hear a little further,

    And then I'll bring thee to the present busines

    Which now's upon 's; without the which this story

    Were most impertinent.

  MIRANDA. Wherefore did they not

    That hour destroy us?

  PROSPERO. Well demanded, wench!

    My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not,

    So dear the love my people bore me; nor set

    A mark so bloody on the business; but

    With colours fairer painted their foul ends.

    In few, they hurried us aboard a bark;

    Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepared

    A rotten carcass of a butt, not rigg'd,

    Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats

    Instinctively have quit it. There they hoist us,

    To cry to th' sea, that roar'd to us; to sigh

    To th' winds, whose pity, sighing back again,

    Did us but loving wrong.

  MIRANDA. Alack, what trouble 

    Was I then to you!

  PROSPERO. O, a cherubin

    Thou wast that did preserve me! Thou didst smile,

    Infused with a fortitude from heaven,

    When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt,

    Under my burden groan'd; which rais'd in me

    An undergoing stomach, to bear up

    Against what should ensue.

  MIRANDA. How came we ashore?

  PROSPERO. By Providence divine.

    Some food we had and some fresh water that

    A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,

    Out of his charity, who being then appointed

    Master of this design, did give us, with

    Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries,

    Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness,

    Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me

    From mine own library with volumes that

    I prize above my dukedom.

  MIRANDA. Would I might 

    But ever see that man!

  PROSPERO. Now I arise.                    [Puts on his mantle]

    Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.

    Here in this island we arriv'd; and here

    Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit

    Than other princess' can, that have more time

    For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.

  MIRANDA. Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you,

      sir,

    For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason

    For raising this sea-storm?

  PROSPERO. Know thus far forth:

    By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,

    Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies

    Brought to this shore; and by my prescience

    I find my zenith doth depend upon

    A most auspicious star, whose influence

    If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes

    Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions;

    Thou art inclin'd to sleep; 'tis a good dullness, 

    And give it way. I know thou canst not choose.

                                                [MIRANDA sleeps]

    Come away, servant; come; I am ready now.

    Approach, my Ariel. Come.



                        Enter ARIEL



  ARIEL. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come

    To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,

    To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride

    On the curl'd clouds. To thy strong bidding task

    Ariel and all his quality.

  PROSPERO. Hast thou, spirit,

    Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?

  ARIEL. To every article.

    I boarded the King's ship; now on the beak,

    Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,

    I flam'd amazement. Sometime I'd divide,

    And burn in many places; on the topmast,

    The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly, 

    Then meet and join Jove's lightning, the precursors

    O' th' dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary

    And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracks

    Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune

    Seem to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble,

    Yea, his dread trident shake.

  PROSPERO. My brave spirit!

    Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil

    Would not infect his reason?

  ARIEL. Not a soul

    But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd

    Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners

    Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,

    Then all afire with me; the King's son, Ferdinand,

    With hair up-staring-then like reeds, not hair-

    Was the first man that leapt; cried 'Hell is empty,

    And all the devils are here.'

  PROSPERO. Why, that's my spirit!

    But was not this nigh shore?

  ARIEL. Close by, my master. 

  PROSPERO. But are they, Ariel, safe?

  ARIEL. Not a hair perish'd;

    On their sustaining garments not a blemish,

    But fresher than before; and, as thou bad'st me,

    In troops I have dispers'd them 'bout the isle.

    The King's son have I landed by himself,

    Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs

    In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,

    His arms in this sad knot.

  PROSPERO. Of the King's ship,

    The mariners, say how thou hast dispos'd,

    And all the rest o' th' fleet?

  ARIEL. Safely in harbour

    Is the King's ship; in the deep nook, where once

    Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew

    From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid;

    The mariners all under hatches stowed,

    Who, with a charm join'd to their suff'red labour,

    I have left asleep; and for the rest o' th' fleet,

    Which I dispers'd, they all have met again, 

    And are upon the Mediterranean flote

    Bound sadly home for Naples,

    Supposing that they saw the King's ship wreck'd,

    And his great person perish.

  PROSPERO. Ariel, thy charge

    Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work.

    What is the time o' th' day?

  ARIEL. Past the mid season.

  PROSPERO. At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now

    Must by us both be spent most preciously.

  ARIEL. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,

    Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,

    Which is not yet perform'd me.

  PROSPERO. How now, moody?

    What is't thou canst demand?

  ARIEL. My liberty.

  PROSPERO. Before the time be out? No more!

  ARIEL. I prithee,

    Remember I have done thee worthy service,

    Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, serv'd 

    Without or grudge or grumblings. Thou didst promise

    To bate me a full year.

  PROSPERO. Dost thou forget

    From what a torment I did free thee?

  ARIEL. No.

  PROSPERO. Thou dost; and think'st it much to tread the ooze

    Of the salt deep,

    To run upon the sharp wind of the north,

    To do me business in the veins o' th' earth

    When it is bak'd with frost.

  ARIEL. I do not, sir.

  PROSPERO. Thou liest, malignant thing. Hast thou forgot

    The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy

    Was grown into a hoop? Hast thou forgot her?

  ARIEL. No, sir.

  PROSPERO. Thou hast. Where was she born?

    Speak; tell me.

  ARIEL. Sir, in Argier.

  PROSPERO. O, was she so? I must

    Once in a month recount what thou hast been, 

    Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax,

    For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible

    To enter human hearing, from Argier

    Thou know'st was banish'd; for one thing she did

    They would not take her life. Is not this true?

  ARIEL. Ay, sir.

  PROSPERO. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child,

    And here was left by th'sailors. Thou, my slave,

    As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant;

    And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate

    To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,

    Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,

    By help of her more potent ministers,

    And in her most unmitigable rage,

    Into a cloven pine; within which rift

    Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain

    A dozen years; within which space she died,

    And left thee there, where thou didst vent thy groans

    As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island-

    Save for the son that she did litter here, 

    A freckl'd whelp, hag-born-not honour'd with

    A human shape.

  ARIEL. Yes, Caliban her son.

  PROSPERO. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban

    Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st

    What torment I did find thee in; thy groans

    Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts

    Of ever-angry bears; it was a torment

    To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax

    Could not again undo. It was mine art,

    When I arriv'd and heard thee, that made gape

    The pine, and let thee out.

  ARIEL. I thank thee, master.

  PROSPERO. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak

    And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till

    Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.

  ARIEL. Pardon, master;

    I will be correspondent to command,

    And do my spriting gently.

  PROSPERO. Do so; and after two days 

    I will discharge thee.

  ARIEL. That's my noble master!

    What shall I do? Say what. What shall I do?

  PROSPERO. Go make thyself like a nymph o' th' sea; be subject

    To no sight but thine and mine, invisible

    To every eyeball else. Go take this shape,

    And hither come in 't. Go, hence with diligence!

                                                      Exit ARIEL

    Awake, dear heart, awake; thou hast slept well;

    Awake.

  MIRANDA. The strangeness of your story put

    Heaviness in me.

  PROSPERO. Shake it off. Come on,

    We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never

    Yields us kind answer.

  MIRANDA. 'Tis a villain, sir,

    I do not love to look on.

  PROSPERO. But as 'tis,

    We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,

    Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices 

    That profit us. What ho! slave! Caliban!

    Thou earth, thou! Speak.

  CALIBAN.   [ Within]  There's wood enough within.

  PROSPERO. Come forth, I say; there's other business for thee.

    Come, thou tortoise! when?



             Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph



    Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,

    Hark in thine ear.

  ARIEL. My lord, it shall be done.                         Exit

  PROSPERO. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself

    Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!



                       Enter CALIBAN



  CALIBAN. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd

    With raven's feather from unwholesome fen

    Drop on you both! A south-west blow on ye

    And blister you all o'er! 

  PROSPERO. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,

    Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins

    Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,

    All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd

    As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging

    Than bees that made 'em.

  CALIBAN. I must eat my dinner.

    This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,

    Which thou tak'st from me. When thou cam'st first,

    Thou strok'st me and made much of me, wouldst give me

    Water with berries in't, and teach me how

    To name the bigger light, and how the less,

    That burn by day and night; and then I lov'd thee,

    And show'd thee all the qualities o' th' isle,

    The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile.

    Curs'd be I that did so! All the charms

    Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!

    For I am all the subjects that you have,

    Which first was mine own king; and here you sty me

    In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me 

    The rest o' th' island.

  PROSPERO. Thou most lying slave,

    Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have us'd thee,

    Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodg'd thee

    In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate

    The honour of my child.

  CALIBAN. O ho, O ho! Would't had been done.

    Thou didst prevent me; I had peopl'd else

    This isle with Calibans.

  MIRANDA. Abhorred slave,

    Which any print of goodness wilt not take,

    Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,

    Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour

    One thing or other. When thou didst not, savage,

    Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like

    A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes

    With words that made them known. But thy vile race,

    Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good natures

    Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou

    Deservedly confin'd into this rock, who hadst 

    Deserv'd more than a prison.

  CALIBAN. You taught me language, and my profit on't

    Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you

    For learning me your language!

  PROSPERO. Hag-seed, hence!

    Fetch us in fuel. And be quick, thou 'rt best,

    To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice?

    If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly

    What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps,

    Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar,

    That beasts shall tremble at thy din.

  CALIBAN. No, pray thee.

    [Aside]  I must obey. His art is of such pow'r,

    It would control my dam's god, Setebos,

    And make a vassal of him.

  PROSPERO. So, slave; hence!                       Exit CALIBAN



         Re-enter ARIEL invisible, playing ad singing;

                     FERDINAND following

 

                          ARIEL'S SONG.

            Come unto these yellow sands,

              And then take hands;

            Curtsied when you have and kiss'd,

              The wild waves whist,

            Foot it featly here and there,

            And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.

              Hark, hark!

            [Burden dispersedly: Bow-wow.]

              The watch dogs bark.

            [Burden dispersedly: Bow-wow.]

              Hark, hark! I hear

            The strain of strutting chanticleer

              Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.

  FERDINAND. Where should this music be? I' th' air or th'

    earth?

    It sounds no more; and sure it waits upon

    Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank,

    Weeping again the King my father's wreck,

    This music crept by me upon the waters, 

    Allaying both their fury and my passion

    With its sweet air; thence I have follow'd it,

    Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone.

    No, it begins again.



                   ARIEL'S SONG

         Full fathom five thy father lies;

           Of his bones are coral made;

         Those are pearls that were his eyes;

           Nothing of him that doth fade

         But doth suffer a sea-change

         Into something rich and strange.

         Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:

           [Burden: Ding-dong.]

         Hark! now I hear them-Ding-dong bell.



  FERDINAND. The ditty does remember my drown'd father.

    This is no mortal business, nor no sound

    That the earth owes. I hear it now above me.

  PROSPERO. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, 

    And say what thou seest yond.

  MIRANDA. What is't? a spirit?

    Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,

    It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.

  PROSPERO. No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses

    As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest

    Was in the wreck; and but he's something stain'd

    With grief, that's beauty's canker, thou mightst call him

    A goodly person. He hath lost his fellows,

    And strays about to find 'em.

  MIRANDA. I might call him

    A thing divine; for nothing natural

    I ever saw so noble.

  PROSPERO.  [Aside]  It goes on, I see,

    As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee

    Within two days for this.

  FERDINAND. Most sure, the goddess

    On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my pray'r

    May know if you remain upon this island;

    And that you will some good instruction give 

    How I may bear me here. My prime request,

    Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!

    If you be maid or no?

  MIRANDA. No wonder, sir;

    But certainly a maid.

  FERDINAND. My language? Heavens!

    I am the best of them that speak this speech,

    Were I but where 'tis spoken.

  PROSPERO. How? the best?

    What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?

  FERDINAND. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders

    To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me;

    And that he does I weep. Myself am Naples,

    Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld

    The King my father wreck'd.

  MIRANDA. Alack, for mercy!

  FERDINAND. Yes, faith, and all his lords, the Duke of Milan

    And his brave son being twain.

  PROSPERO.  [Aside]  The Duke of Milan

    And his more braver daughter could control thee, 

    If now 'twere fit to do't. At the first sight

    They have chang'd eyes. Delicate Ariel,

    I'll set thee free for this.  [To FERDINAND]  A word, good

    sir;

    I fear you have done yourself some wrong; a word.

  MIRANDA. Why speaks my father so ungently? This

    Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first

    That e'er I sigh'd for. Pity move my father

    To be inclin'd my way!

  FERDINAND. O, if a virgin,

    And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you

    The Queen of Naples.

  PROSPERO. Soft, Sir! one word more.

    [Aside]  They are both in either's pow'rs; but this swift

    busines

    I must uneasy make, lest too light winning

    Make the prize light.  [To FERDINAND]  One word more; I

    charge thee

    That thou attend me; thou dost here usurp

    The name thou ow'st not; and hast put thyself 

    Upon this island as a spy, to win it

    From me, the lord on't.

  FERDINAND. No, as I am a man.

  MIRANDA. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple.

    If the ill spirit have so fair a house,

    Good things will strive to dwell with't.

  PROSPERO. Follow me.

    Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. Come;

    I'll manacle thy neck and feet together.

    Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be

    The fresh-brook mussels, wither'd roots, and husks

    Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

  FERDINAND. No;

    I will resist such entertainment till

    Mine enemy has more power.

                          [He draws, and is charmed from moving]

  MIRANDA. O dear father,

    Make not too rash a trial of him, for

    He's gentle, and not fearful.

  PROSPERO. What, I say, 

    My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;

    Who mak'st a show but dar'st not strike, thy conscience

    Is so possess'd with guilt. Come from thy ward;

    For I can here disarm thee with this stick

    And make thy weapon drop.

  MIRANDA. Beseech you, father!

  PROSPERO. Hence! Hang not on my garments.

  MIRANDA. Sir, have pity;

    I'll be his surety.

  PROSPERO. Silence! One word more

    Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!

    An advocate for an impostor! hush!

    Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he,

    Having seen but him and Caliban. Foolish wench!

    To th' most of men this is a Caliban,

    And they to him are angels.

  MIRANDA. My affections

    Are then most humble; I have no ambition

    To see a goodlier man.

  PROSPERO. Come on; obey. 

    Thy nerves are in their infancy again,

    And have no vigour in them.

  FERDINAND. So they are;

    My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.

    My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,

    The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats

    To whom I am subdu'd, are but light to me,

    Might I but through my prison once a day

    Behold this maid. All corners else o' th' earth

    Let liberty make use of; space enough

    Have I in such a prison.

  PROSPERO.  [Aside]  It works.  [To FERDINAND]  Come on.-

    Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!  [To FERDINAND]  Follow

    me.

    [To ARIEL]  Hark what thou else shalt do me.

  MIRANDA. Be of comfort;

    My father's of a better nature, sir,

    Than he appears by speech; this is unwonted

    Which now came from him.

  PROSPERO.  [To ARIEL]  Thou shalt be as free 

    As mountain winds; but then exactly do

    All points of my command.

  ARIEL. To th' syllable.

  PROSPERO.  [To FERDINAND]  Come, follow.  [To MIRANDA]

    Speak not for him.                                    Exeunt









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ACT II. SCENE 1



Another part of the island



Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and

OTHERS



  GONZALO. Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause,

    So have we all, of joy; for our escape

    Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe

    Is common; every day, some sailor's wife,

    The masters of some merchant, and the merchant,

    Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle,

    I mean our preservation, few in millions

    Can speak like us. Then wisely, good sir, weigh

    Our sorrow with our comfort.

  ALONSO. Prithee, peace.

  SEBASTIAN. He receives comfort like cold porridge.

  ANTONIO. The visitor will not give him o'er so.

  SEBASTIAN. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; by

    and by it will strike.

  GONZALO. Sir-

  SEBASTIAN. One-Tell. 

  GONZALO. When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd,

    Comes to th' entertainer-

  SEBASTIAN. A dollar.

  GONZALO. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have spoken

    truer than you purpos'd.

  SEBASTIAN. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you

    should.

  GONZALO. Therefore, my lord-

  ANTONIO. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!

  ALONSO. I prithee, spare.

  GONZALO. Well, I have done; but yet-

  SEBASTIAN. He will be talking.

  ANTONIO. Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first

    begins to crow?

  SEBASTIAN. The old cock.

  ANTONIO. The cock'rel.

  SEBASTIAN. Done. The wager?

  ANTONIO. A laughter.

  SEBASTIAN. A match!

  ADRIAN. Though this island seem to be desert- 

  ANTONIO. Ha, ha, ha!

  SEBASTIAN. So, you're paid.

  ADRIAN. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible-

  SEBASTIAN. Yet-

  ADRIAN. Yet-

  ANTONIO. He could not miss't.

  ADRIAN. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate

    temperance.

  ANTONIO. Temperance was a delicate wench.

  SEBASTIAN. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly

    deliver'd.

  ADRIAN. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.

  SEBASTIAN. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.

  ANTONIO. Or, as 'twere perfum'd by a fen.

  GONZALO. Here is everything advantageous to life.

  ANTONIO. True; save means to live.

  SEBASTIAN. Of that there's none, or little.

  GONZALO. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!

  ANTONIO. The ground indeed is tawny.

  SEBASTIAN. With an eye of green in't. 

  ANTONIO. He misses not much.

  SEBASTIAN. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.

  GONZALO. But the rarity of it is, which is indeed almost

    beyond credit-

  SEBASTIAN. As many vouch'd rarities are.

  GONZALO. That our garments, being, as they were, drench'd

    in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness and

    glosses, being rather new-dy'd, than stain'd with salt

    water.

  ANTONIO. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it

    not say he lies?

  SEBASTIAN. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report.

  GONZALO. Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when

    we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the

    King's fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis.

  SEBASTIAN. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in

    our return.

  ADRIAN. Tunis was never grac'd before with such a paragon

    to their queen.

  GONZALO. Not since widow Dido's time. 

  ANTONIO. Widow! a pox o' that! How came that 'widow'

    in? Widow Dido!

  SEBASTIAN. What if he had said 'widower Aeneas' too?

    Good Lord, how you take it!

  ADRIAN. 'Widow Dido' said you? You make me study of

    that. She was of Carthage, not of Tunis.

  GONZALO. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.

  ADRIAN. Carthage?

  GONZALO. I assure you, Carthage.

  ANTONIO. His word is more than the miraculous harp.

  SEBASTIAN. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too.

  ANTONIO. What impossible matter will he make easy next?

  SEBASTIAN. I think he will carry this island home in his

    pocket, and give it his son for an apple.

  ANTONIO. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring

    forth more islands.

  GONZALO. Ay.

  ANTONIO. Why, in good time.

  GONZALO. Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now

    as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of 

    your daughter, who is now Queen.

  ANTONIO. And the rarest that e'er came there.

  SEBASTIAN. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.

  ANTONIO. O, widow Dido! Ay, widow Dido.

  GONZALO. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I

    wore it? I mean, in a sort.

  ANTONIO. That 'sort' was well fish'd for.

  GONZALO. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?

  ALONSO. You cram these words into mine ears against

    The stomach of my sense. Would I had never

    Married my daughter there; for, coming thence,

    My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too,

    Who is so far from Italy removed

    I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir

    Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish

    Hath made his meal on thee?

  FRANCISCO. Sir, he may live;

    I saw him beat the surges under him,

    And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,

    Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted 

    The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head

    'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oared

    Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke

    To th' shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bowed,

    As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt

    He came alive to land.

  ALONSO. No, no, he's gone.

  SEBASTIAN. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss,

    That would not bless our Europe with your daughter,

    But rather lose her to an African;

    Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye,

    Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.

  ALONSO. Prithee, peace.

  SEBASTIAN. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise

    By all of us; and the fair soul herself

    Weigh'd between loathness and obedience at

    Which end o' th' beam should bow. We have lost your son,

    I fear, for ever. Milan and Naples have

    Moe widows in them of this business' making,

    Than we bring men to comfort them; 

    The fault's your own.

  ALONSO. So is the dear'st o' th' loss.

  GONZALO. My lord Sebastian,

    The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,

    And time to speak it in; you rub the sore,

    When you should bring the plaster.

  SEBASTIAN. Very well.

  ANTONIO. And most chirurgeonly.

  GONZALO. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,

    When you are cloudy.

  SEBASTIAN. Foul weather?

  ANTONIO. Very foul.

  GONZALO. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord-

  ANTONIO. He'd sow 't with nettle-seed.

  SEBASTIAN. Or docks, or mallows.

  GONZALO. And were the king on't, what would I do?

  SEBASTIAN. Scape being drunk for want of wine.

  GONZALO. I' th' commonwealth I would by contraries

    Execute all things; for no kind of traffic

    Would I admit; no name of magistrate; 

    Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,

    And use of service, none; contract, succession,

    Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;

    No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil;

    No occupation; all men idle, all;

    And women too, but innocent and pure;

    No sovereignty-

  SEBASTIAN. Yet he would be king on't.

  ANTONIO. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the

    beginning.

  GONZALO. All things in common nature should produce

    Without sweat or endeavour. Treason, felony,

    Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,

    Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,

    Of it own kind, all foison, all abundance,

    To feed my innocent people.

  SEBASTIAN. No marrying 'mong his subjects?

  ANTONIO. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves.

  GONZALO. I would with such perfection govern, sir,

    T' excel the golden age. 

  SEBASTIAN. Save his Majesty!

  ANTONIO. Long live Gonzalo!

  GONZALO. And-do you mark me, sir?

  ALONSO. Prithee, no more; thou dost talk nothing to me.

  GONZALO. I do well believe your Highness; and did it to

    minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such

    sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh

    at nothing.

  ANTONIO. 'Twas you we laugh'd at.

  GONZALO. Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to

    you; so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.

  ANTONIO. What a blow was there given!

  SEBASTIAN. An it had not fall'n flat-long.

  GONZALO. You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would

    lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue

    in it five weeks without changing.



          Enter ARIEL, invisible, playing solemn music



  SEBASTIAN. We would so, and then go a-bat-fowling. 

  ANTONIO. Nay, good my lord, be not angry.

  GONZALO. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my

    discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am

    very heavy?

  ANTONIO. Go sleep, and hear us.

                   [All sleep but ALONSO, SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO]

  ALONSO. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes

    Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts; I find

    They are inclin'd to do so.

  SEBASTIAN. Please you, sir,

    Do not omit the heavy offer of it:

    It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,

    It is a comforter.

  ANTONIO. We two, my lord,

    Will guard your person while you take your rest,

    And watch your safety.

  ALONSO. Thank you-wondrous heavy!

                                     [ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL]

  SEBASTIAN. What a strange drowsiness possesses them!

  ANTONIO. It is the quality o' th' climate. 

  SEBASTIAN. Why

    Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not

    Myself dispos'd to sleep.

  ANTONIO. Nor I; my spirits are nimble.

    They fell together all, as by consent;

    They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,

    Worthy Sebastian? O, what might! No more!

    And yet methinks I see it in thy face,

    What thou shouldst be; th' occasion speaks thee; and

    My strong imagination sees a crown

    Dropping upon thy head.

  SEBASTIAN. What, art thou waking?

  ANTONIO. Do you not hear me speak?

  SEBASTIAN. I do; and surely

    It is a sleepy language, and thou speak'st

    Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say?

    This is a strange repose, to be asleep

    With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,

    And yet so fast asleep.

  ANTONIO. Noble Sebastian, 

    Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die rather; wink'st

    Whiles thou art waking.

  SEBASTIAN. Thou dost snore distinctly;

    There's meaning in thy snores.

  ANTONIO. I am more serious than my custom; you

    Must be so too, if heed me; which to do

    Trebles thee o'er.

  SEBASTIAN. Well, I am standing water.

  ANTONIO. I'll teach you how to flow.

  SEBASTIAN. Do so: to ebb,

    Hereditary sloth instructs me.

  ANTONIO. O,

    If you but knew how you the purpose cherish,

    Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,

    You more invest it! Ebbing men indeed,

    Most often, do so near the bottom run

    By their own fear or sloth.

  SEBASTIAN. Prithee say on.

    The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim

    A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed, 

    Which throes thee much to yield.

  ANTONIO. Thus, sir:

    Although this lord of weak remembrance, this

    Who shall be of as little memory

    When he is earth'd, hath here almost persuaded-

    For he's a spirit of persuasion, only

    Professes to persuade-the King his son's alive,

    'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd

    As he that sleeps here swims.

  SEBASTIAN. I have no hope

    That he's undrown'd.

  ANTONIO. O, out of that 'no hope'

    What great hope have you! No hope that way is

    Another way so high a hope, that even

    Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,

    But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me

    That Ferdinand is drown'd?

  SEBASTIAN. He's gone.

  ANTONIO. Then tell me,

    Who's the next heir of Naples? 

  SEBASTIAN. Claribel.

  ANTONIO. She that is Queen of Tunis; she that dwells

    Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples

    Can have no note, unless the sun were post,

    The Man i' th' Moon's too slow, till newborn chins

    Be rough and razorable; she that from whom

    We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again,

    And by that destiny, to perform an act

    Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come

    In yours and my discharge.

  SEBASTIAN. What stuff is this! How say you?

    'Tis true, my brother's daughter's Queen of Tunis;

    So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions

    There is some space.

  ANTONIO. A space whose ev'ry cubit

    Seems to cry out 'How shall that Claribel

    Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis,

    And let Sebastian wake.' Say this were death

    That now hath seiz'd them; why, they were no worse

    Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples 

    As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate

    As amply and unnecessarily

    As this Gonzalo; I myself could make

    A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore

    The mind that I do! What a sleep were this

    For your advancement! Do you understand me?

  SEBASTIAN. Methinks I do.

  ANTONIO. And how does your content

    Tender your own good fortune?

  SEBASTIAN. I remember

    You did supplant your brother Prospero.

  ANTONIO. True.

    And look how well my garments sit upon me,

    Much feater than before. My brother's servants

    Were then my fellows; now they are my men.

  SEBASTIAN. But, for your conscience-

  ANTONIO. Ay, sir; where lies that? If 'twere a kibe,

    'Twould put me to my slipper; but I feel not

    This deity in my bosom; twenty consciences

    That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they 

    And melt, ere they molest! Here lies your brother,

    No better than the earth he lies upon,

    If he were that which now he's like-that's dead;

    Whom I with this obedient steel, three inches of it,

    Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus,

    To the perpetual wink for aye might put

    This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who

    Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,

    They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk;

    They'll tell the clock to any business that

    We say befits the hour.

  SEBASTIAN. Thy case, dear friend,

    Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan,

    I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword. One stroke

    Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest;

    And I the King shall love thee.

  ANTONIO. Draw together;

    And when I rear my hand, do you the like,

    To fall it on Gonzalo.

  SEBASTIAN. O, but one word.                  [They talk apart] 



          Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, with music and song



  ARIEL. My master through his art foresees the danger

    That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth-

    For else his project dies-to keep them living.

                                        [Sings in GONZALO'S ear]

    While you here do snoring lie,

    Open-ey'd conspiracy

    His time doth take.

    If of life you keep a care,

    Shake off slumber, and beware.

    Awake, awake!



  ANTONIO. Then let us both be sudden.

  GONZALO. Now, good angels

    Preserve the King!                               [They wake]

  ALONSO. Why, how now?-Ho, awake!-Why are you drawn?

    Wherefore this ghastly looking?

  GONZALO. What's the matter? 

  SEBASTIAN. Whiles we stood here securing your repose,

    Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing

    Like bulls, or rather lions; did't not wake you?

    It struck mine ear most terribly.

  ALONSO. I heard nothing.

  ANTONIO. O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear,

    To make an earthquake! Sure it was the roar

    Of a whole herd of lions.

  ALONSO. Heard you this, Gonzalo?

  GONZALO. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,

    And that a strange one too, which did awake me;

    I shak'd you, sir, and cried; as mine eyes open'd,

    I saw their weapons drawn-there was a noise,

    That's verily. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard,

    Or that we quit this place. Let's draw our weapons.

  ALONSO. Lead off this ground; and let's make further

    search

    For my poor son.

  GONZALO. Heavens keep him from these beasts!

    For he is, sure, i' th' island. 

  ALONSO. Lead away.

  ARIEL. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done;

    So, King, go safely on to seek thy son.               Exeunt









SCENE 2



Another part of the island



Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard



  CALIBAN. All the infections that the sun sucks up

    From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him

    By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me,

    And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch,

    Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i' th' mire,

    Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark

    Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but

    For every trifle are they set upon me;

    Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me,

    And after bite me; then like hedgehogs which

    Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount

    Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I

    All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues

    Do hiss me into madness.



                         Enter TRINCULO 



    Lo, now, lo!

    Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me

    For bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall flat;

    Perchance he will not mind me.

  TRINCULO. Here's neither bush nor shrub to bear off any

    weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it

    sing i' th' wind. Yond same black cloud, yond huge one,

    looks like a foul bombard that would shed his liquor. If

    it should thunder as it did before, I know not where to

    hide my head. Yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by

    pailfuls. What have we here? a man or a fish? dead or

    alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and

    fish-like smell; kind of not-of-the-newest Poor-John. A

    strange fish! Were I in England now, as once I was, and

    had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but

    would give a piece of silver. There would this monster

    make a man; any strange beast there makes a man; when

    they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they

    will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legg'd like a 

    man, and his fins like arms! Warm, o' my troth! I do now

    let loose my opinion; hold it no longer: this is no

    fish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered by

    thunderbolt.  [Thunder]  Alas, the storm is come again! My

    best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no

    other shelter hereabout. Misery acquaints a man with

    strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the dregs

    of the storm be past.



            Enter STEPHANO singing; a bottle in his hand



  STEPHANO. I shall no more to sea, to sea,

    Here shall I die ashore-

    This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral;

    well, here's my comfort.                            [Drinks]



    The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,

    The gunner, and his mate,

    Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,

    But none of us car'd for Kate; 

    For she had a tongue with a tang,

    Would cry to a sailor 'Go hang!'

    She lov'd not the savour of tar nor of pitch,

    Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch.

    Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang!



    This is a scurvy tune too; but here's my comfort.

                                                        [Drinks]

  CALIBAN. Do not torment me. O!

  STEPHANO. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you

    put tricks upon 's with savages and men of Ind? Ha! I

    have not scap'd drowning to be afeard now of your four

    legs; for it hath been said: As proper a man as ever

    went on four legs cannot make him give ground; and it

    shall be said so again, while Stephano breathes at

    nostrils.

  CALIBAN. The spirit torments me. O!

  STEPHANO. This is some monster of the isle with four legs,

    who hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil

    should he learn our language? I will give him some 

    relief, if it be but for that. If I can recover him, and

    keep him tame, and get to Naples with him, he's a

    present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's

    leather.

  CALIBAN. Do not torment me, prithee; I'll bring my wood

    home faster.

  STEPHANO. He's in his fit now, and does not talk after the

    wisest. He shall taste of my bottle; if he have never

    drunk wine afore, it will go near to remove his fit. If

    I can recover him, and keep him tame, I will not take

    too much for him; he shall pay for him that hath him,

    and that soundly.

  CALIBAN. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon,

    I know it by thy trembling; now Prosper works upon thee.

  STEPHANO. Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is

    that which will give language to you, cat. Open your

    mouth; this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and

    that soundly; you cannot tell who's your friend. Open

    your chaps again.

  TRINCULO. I should know that voice; it should be-but he is 

    drown'd; and these are devils. O, defend me!

  STEPHANO. Four legs and two voices; a most delicate monster!

    His forward voice, now, is to speak well of his

    friend; his backward voice is to utter foul speeches and

    to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will recover

    him, I will help his ague. Come-Amen! I will pour some

    in thy other mouth.

  TRINCULO. Stephano!

  STEPHANO. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy!

    This is a devil, and no monster; I will leave him; I

    have no long spoon.

  TRINCULO. Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me, and

    speak to me; for I am Trinculo-be not afeard-thy good

    friend Trinculo.

  STEPHANO. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth; I'll pull

    the by the lesser legs; if any be Trinculo's legs, these

    are they. Thou art very Trinculo indeed! How cam'st thou

    to be the siege of this moon-calf? Can he vent

    Trinculos?

  TRINCULO. I took him to be kill'd with a thunderstroke. 

    But art thou not drown'd, Stephano? I hope now thou are

    not drown'd. Is the storm overblown? I hid me under the

    dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fear of the storm. And

    art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans

    scap'd!

  STEPHANO. Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not

    constant.

  CALIBAN.  [Aside]  These be fine things, an if they be not

    sprites.

    That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor.

    I will kneel to him.

  STEPHANO. How didst thou scape? How cam'st thou hither?

    Swear by this bottle how thou cam'st hither-I escap'd

    upon a butt of sack, which the sailors heaved o'erboard-

    by this bottle, which I made of the bark of a tree, with

    mine own hands, since I was cast ashore.

  CALIBAN. I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true

    subject, for the liquor is not earthly.

  STEPHANO. Here; swear then how thou escap'dst.

  TRINCULO. Swum ashore, man, like a duck; I can swim like 

    a duck, I'll be sworn.

  STEPHANO.  [Passing the bottle]  Here, kiss the book. Though

    thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made like a

    goose.

  TRINCULO. O Stephano, hast any more of this?

  STEPHANO. The whole butt, man; my cellar is in a rock by

    th' seaside, where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf!

    How does thine ague?

  CALIBAN. Hast thou not dropp'd from heaven?

  STEPHANO. Out o' th' moon, I do assure thee; I was the Man

    i' th' Moon, when time was.

  CALIBAN. I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee. My

    mistress show'd me thee, and thy dog and thy bush.

  STEPHANO. Come, swear to that; kiss the book. I will

    furnish it anon with new contents. Swear.

                                                [CALIBAN drinks]

  TRINCULO. By this good light, this is a very shallow

    monster!

    I afeard of him! A very weak monster! The Man i' th'

    Moon! A most poor credulous monster! Well drawn, 

    monster, in good sooth!

  CALIBAN. I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' island;

    and will kiss thy foot. I prithee be my god.

  TRINCULO. By this light, a most perfidious and drunken

    monster! When's god's asleep he'll rob his bottle.

  CALIBAN. I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself thy

    subject.

  STEPHANO. Come on, then; down, and swear.

  TRINCULO. I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-

    headed monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in

    my heart to beat him-

  STEPHANO. Come, kiss.

  TRINCULO. But that the poor monster's in drink. An

    abominable monster!

  CALIBAN. I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee

    berries;

    I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough.

    A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!

    I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,

    Thou wondrous man. 

  TRINCULO. A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of

    a poor drunkard!

  CALIBAN. I prithee let me bring thee where crabs grow;

    And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts;

    Show thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how

    To snare the nimble marmoset; I'll bring thee

    To clust'ring filberts, and sometimes I'll get thee

    Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?

  STEPHANO. I prithee now, lead the way without any more

    talking. Trinculo, the King and all our company else

    being drown'd, we will inherit here. Here, bear my bottle.

    Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again.

  CALIBAN.  [Sings drunkenly]  Farewell, master; farewell,

    farewell!

  TRINCULO. A howling monster; a drunken monster!

  CALIBAN. No more dams I'll make for fish;

    Nor fetch in firing

    At requiring,

    Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish.

    'Ban 'Ban, Ca-Caliban, 

    Has a new master-Get a new man.

    Freedom, high-day! high-day, freedom! freedom, high-

    day, freedom!

  STEPHANO. O brave monster! Lead the way.                Exeunt









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ACT III. SCENE 1



Before PROSPERO'S cell



Enter FERDINAND, hearing a log



  FERDINAND. There be some sports are painful, and their

    labour

    Delight in them sets off; some kinds of baseness

    Are nobly undergone, and most poor matters

    Point to rich ends. This my mean task

    Would be as heavy to me as odious, but

    The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead,

    And makes my labours pleasures. O, she is

    Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed;

    And he's compos'd of harshness. I must remove

    Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up,

    Upon a sore injunction; my sweet mistress

    Weeps when she sees me work, and says such baseness

    Had never like executor. I forget;

    But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours,

    Most busy, least when I do it.

 

        Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO at a distance, unseen



  MIRANDA. Alas, now; pray you,

    Work not so hard; I would the lightning had

    Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin'd to pile.

    Pray, set it down and rest you; when this burns,

    'Twill weep for having wearied you. My father

    Is hard at study; pray, now, rest yourself;

    He's safe for these three hours.

  FERDINAND. O most dear mistress,

    The sun will set before I shall discharge

    What I must strive to do.

  MIRANDA. If you'll sit down,

    I'll bear your logs the while; pray give me that;

    I'll carry it to the pile.

  FERDINAND. No, precious creature;

    I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,

    Than you should such dishonour undergo,

    While I sit lazy by.

  MIRANDA. It would become me 

    As well as it does you; and I should do it

    With much more ease; for my good will is to it,

    And yours it is against.

  PROSPERO.  [Aside]  Poor worm, thou art infected!

    This visitation shows it.

  MIRANDA. You look wearily.

  FERDINAND. No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with me

    When you are by at night. I do beseech you,

    Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers,

    What is your name?

  MIRANDA. Miranda-O my father,

    I have broke your hest to say so!

  FERDINAND. Admir'd Miranda!

    What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady

    I have ey'd with best regard; and many a time

    Th' harmony of their tongues hath into bondage

    Brought my too diligent ear; for several virtues

    Have I lik'd several women, never any

    With so full soul, but some defect in her

    Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd, 

    And put it to the foil; but you, O you,

    So perfect and so peerless, are created

    Of every creature's best!

  MIRANDA. I do not know

    One of my sex; no woman's face remember,

    Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen

    More that I may call men than you, good friend,

    And my dear father. How features are abroad,

    I am skilless of; but, by my modesty,

    The jewel in my dower, I would not wish

    Any companion in the world but you;

    Nor can imagination form a shape,

    Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle

    Something too wildly, and my father's precepts

    I therein do forget.

  FERDINAND. I am, in my condition,

    A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king-

    I would not so!-and would no more endure

    This wooden slavery than to suffer

    The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak: 

    The very instant that I saw you, did

    My heart fly to your service; there resides

    To make me slave to it; and for your sake

    Am I this patient log-man.

  MIRANDA. Do you love me?

  FERDINAND. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound,

    And crown what I profess with kind event,

    If I speak true! If hollowly, invert

    What best is boded me to mischief! I,

    Beyond all limit of what else i' th' world,

    Do love, prize, honour you.

  MIRANDA. I am a fool

    To weep at what I am glad of.

  PROSPERO.  [Aside]  Fair encounter

    Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace

    On that which breeds between 'em!

  FERDINAND. Wherefore weep you?

  MIRANDA. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer

    What I desire to give, and much less take

    What I shall die to want. But this is trifling; 

    And all the more it seeks to hide itself,

    The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning!

    And prompt me, plain and holy innocence!

    I am your wife, if you will marry me;

    If not, I'll die your maid. To be your fellow

    You may deny me; but I'll be your servant,

    Whether you will or no.

  FERDINAND. My mistress, dearest;

    And I thus humble ever.

  MIRANDA. My husband, then?

  FERDINAND. Ay, with a heart as willing

    As bondage e'er of freedom. Here's my hand.

  MIRANDA. And mine, with my heart in't. And now farewell

    Till half an hour hence.

  FERDINAND. A thousand thousand!

                          Exeunt FERDINAND and MIRANDA severally

  PROSPERO. So glad of this as they I cannot be,

    Who are surpris'd withal; but my rejoicing

    At nothing can be more. I'll to my book;

    For yet ere supper time must I perform 

    Much business appertaining.                             Exit









SCENE 2



Another part of the island



Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO



  STEPHANO. Tell not me-when the butt is out we will drink

    water, not a drop before; therefore bear up, and board

    'em. Servant-monster, drink to me.

  TRINCULO. Servant-monster! The folly of this island! They

    say there's but five upon this isle: we are three of

    them; if th' other two be brain'd like us, the state

    totters.

  STEPHANO. Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee; thy

    eyes are almost set in thy head.

  TRINCULO. Where should they be set else? He were a brave

    monster indeed, if they were set in his tail.

  STEPHANO. My man-monster hath drown'd his tongue in

    sack. For my part, the sea cannot drown me; I swam, ere

    I could recover the shore, five and thirty leagues, off

    and on. By this light, thou shalt be my lieutenant,

    monster, or my standard.

  TRINCULO. Your lieutenant, if you list; he's no standard. 

  STEPHANO. We'll not run, Monsieur Monster.

  TRINCULO. Nor go neither; but you'll lie like dogs, and

    yet say nothing neither.

  STEPHANO. Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest

    a good moon-calf.

  CALIBAN. How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe.

    I'll not serve him; he is not valiant.

  TRINCULO. Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in case

    to justle a constable. Why, thou debosh'd fish, thou,

    was there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much sack

    as I to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but

    half fish and half a monster?

  CALIBAN. Lo, how he mocks me! Wilt thou let him, my

    lord?

  TRINCULO. 'Lord' quoth he! That a monster should be such

    a natural!

  CALIBAN. Lo, lo again! Bite him to death, I prithee.

  STEPHANO. Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head; if

    you prove a mutineer-the next tree! The poor monster's

    my subject, and he shall not suffer indignity. 

  CALIBAN. I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleas'd to

    hearken once again to the suit I made to thee?

  STEPHANO. Marry will I; kneel and repeat it; I will stand,

    and so shall Trinculo.



                     Enter ARIEL, invisible



  CALIBAN. As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant,

    sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the

    island.

  ARIEL. Thou liest.

  CALIBAN. Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou;

    I would my valiant master would destroy thee.

    I do not lie.

  STEPHANO. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale,

    by this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth.

  TRINCULO. Why, I said nothing.

  STEPHANO. Mum, then, and no more. Proceed.

  CALIBAN. I say, by sorcery he got this isle;

    From me he got it. If thy greatness will 

    Revenge it on him-for I know thou dar'st,

    But this thing dare not-

  STEPHANO. That's most certain.

  CALIBAN. Thou shalt be lord of it, and I'll serve thee.

  STEPHANO. How now shall this be compass'd? Canst thou

    bring me to the party?

  CALIBAN. Yea, yea, my lord; I'll yield him thee asleep,

    Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head.

  ARIEL. Thou liest; thou canst not.

  CALIBAN. What a pied ninny's this! Thou scurvy patch!

    I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows,

    And take his bottle from him. When that's gone

    He shall drink nought but brine; for I'll not show him

    Where the quick freshes are.

  STEPHANO. Trinculo, run into no further danger; interrupt

    the monster one word further and, by this hand, I'll turn

    my mercy out o' doors, and make a stock-fish of thee.

  TRINCULO. Why, what did I? I did nothing. I'll go farther

    off.

  STEPHANO. Didst thou not say he lied? 

  ARIEL. Thou liest.

  STEPHANO. Do I so? Take thou that.  [Beats him]  As you like

    this, give me the lie another time.

  TRINCULO. I did not give the lie. Out o' your wits and

    hearing too? A pox o' your bottle! This can sack and

    drinking do. A murrain on your monster, and the devil

    take your fingers!

  CALIBAN. Ha, ha, ha!

  STEPHANO. Now, forward with your tale.-Prithee stand

    further off.

  CALIBAN. Beat him enough; after a little time, I'll beat

    him too.

  STEPHANO. Stand farther. Come, proceed.

  CALIBAN. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him

    I' th' afternoon to sleep; there thou mayst brain him,

    Having first seiz'd his books; or with a log

    Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,

    Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember

    First to possess his books; for without them

    He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not 

    One spirit to command; they all do hate him

    As rootedly as I. Burn but his books.

    He has brave utensils-for so he calls them-

    Which, when he has a house, he'll deck withal.

    And that most deeply to consider is

    The beauty of his daughter; he himself

    Calls her a nonpareil. I never saw a woman

    But only Sycorax my dam and she;

    But she as far surpasseth Sycorax

    As great'st does least.

  STEPHANO. Is it so brave a lass?

  CALIBAN. Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I warrant,

    And bring thee forth brave brood.

  STEPHANO. Monster, I will kill this man; his daughter and I

    will be King and Queen-save our Graces!-and Trinculo

    and thyself shall be viceroys. Dost thou like the plot,

    Trinculo?

  TRINCULO. Excellent.

  STEPHANO. Give me thy hand; I am sorry I beat thee; but

    while thou liv'st, keep a good tongue in thy head. 

  CALIBAN. Within this half hour will he be asleep.

    Wilt thou destroy him then?

  STEPHANO. Ay, on mine honour.

  ARIEL. This will I tell my master.

  CALIBAN. Thou mak'st me merry; I am full of pleasure.

    Let us be jocund; will you troll the catch

    You taught me but while-ere?

  STEPHANO. At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any

    reason. Come on, Trinculo, let us sing.              [Sings]



    Flout 'em and scout 'em,

    And scout 'em and flout 'em;

    Thought is free.



  CALIBAN. That's not the tune.

                      [ARIEL plays the tune on a tabor and pipe]

  STEPHANO. What is this same?

  TRINCULO. This is the tune of our catch, play'd by the

    picture of Nobody.

  STEPHANO. If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy 

    likeness; if thou beest a devil, take't as thou list.

  TRINCULO. O, forgive me my sins!

  STEPHANO. He that dies pays all debts. I defy thee. Mercy

    upon us!

  CALIBAN. Art thou afeard?

  STEPHANO. No, monster, not I.

  CALIBAN. Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises,

    Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.

    Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments

    Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices,

    That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep,

    Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming,

    The clouds methought would open and show riches

    Ready to drop upon me, that, when I wak'd,

    I cried to dream again.

  STEPHANO. This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I

    shall have my music for nothing.

  CALIBAN. When Prospero is destroy'd.

  STEPHANO. That shall be by and by; I remember the story.

  TRINCULO. The sound is going away; let's follow it, and 

    after do our work.

  STEPHANO. Lead, monster; we'll follow. I would I could see

    this taborer; he lays it on.

  TRINCULO. Wilt come? I'll follow, Stephano.             Exeunt









SCENE 3



Another part of the island



Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and

OTHERS



  GONZALO. By'r lakin, I can go no further, sir;

    My old bones ache. Here's a maze trod, indeed,

    Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience,

    I needs must rest me.

  ALONSO. Old lord, I cannot blame thee,

    Who am myself attach'd with weariness

    To th' dulling of my spirits; sit down and rest.

    Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it

    No longer for my flatterer; he is drown'd

    Whom thus we stray to find, and the sea mocks

    Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go.

  ANTONIO.  [Aside to SEBASTIAN]  I am right glad that he's

    so out of hope.

    Do not, for one repulse, forgo the purpose

    That you resolv'd t' effect.

  SEBASTIAN.  [Aside to ANTONIO]  The next advantage 

    Will we take throughly.

  ANTONIO.  [Aside to SEBASTIAN]  Let it be to-night;

    For, now they are oppress'd with travel, they

    Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance

    As when they are fresh.

  SEBASTIAN.  [Aside to ANTONIO]  I say, to-night; no more.



           Solemn and strange music; and PROSPERO on the

           top, invisible. Enter several strange SHAPES,

           bringing in a banquet; and dance about it with

           gentle actions of salutations; and inviting the

           KING, etc., to eat, they depart



  ALONSO. What harmony is this? My good friends, hark!

  GONZALO. Marvellous sweet music!

  ALONSO. Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these?

  SEBASTIAN. A living drollery. Now I will believe

    That there are unicorns; that in Arabia

    There is one tree, the phoenix' throne, one phoenix

    At this hour reigning-there. 

  ANTONIO. I'll believe both;

    And what does else want credit, come to me,

    And I'll be sworn 'tis true; travellers ne'er did lie,

    Though fools at home condemn 'em.

  GONZALO. If in Naples

    I should report this now, would they believe me?

    If I should say, I saw such islanders,

    For certes these are people of the island,

    Who though they are of monstrous shape yet, note,

    Their manners are more gentle-kind than of

    Our human generation you shall find

    Many, nay, almost any.

  PROSPERO.  [Aside]  Honest lord,

    Thou hast said well; for some of you there present

    Are worse than devils.

  ALONSO. I cannot too much muse

    Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, expressing,

    Although they want the use of tongue, a kind

    Of excellent dumb discourse.

  PROSPERO.  [Aside]  Praise in departing. 

  FRANCISCO. They vanish'd strangely.

  SEBASTIAN. No matter, since

    They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs.

    Will't please you taste of what is here?

  ALONSO. Not I.

  GONZALO. Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys,

    Who would believe that there were mountaineers,

    Dewlapp'd like bulls, whose throats had hanging at 'em

    Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men

    Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find

    Each putter-out of five for one will bring us

    Good warrant of.

  ALONSO. I will stand to, and feed,

    Although my last; no matter, since I feel

    The best is past. Brother, my lord the Duke,

    Stand to, and do as we.



       Thunder and lightning. Enter ARIEL, like a harpy;

       claps his wings upon the table; and, with a quaint

                device, the banquet vanishes 



  ARIEL. You are three men of sin, whom Destiny,

    That hath to instrument this lower world

    And what is in't, the never-surfeited sea

    Hath caus'd to belch up you; and on this island

    Where man doth not inhabit-you 'mongst men

    Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad;

    And even with such-like valour men hang and drown

    Their proper selves.

                     [ALONSO, SEBASTIAN etc., draw their swords]

    You fools! I and my fellows

    Are ministers of Fate; the elements

    Of whom your swords are temper'd may as well

    Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs

    Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish

    One dowle that's in my plume; my fellow-ministers

    Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt,

    Your swords are now too massy for your strengths

    And will not be uplifted. But remember-

    For that's my business to you-that you three 

    From Milan did supplant good Prospero;

    Expos'd unto the sea, which hath requit it,

    Him, and his innocent child; for which foul deed

    The pow'rs, delaying, not forgetting, have

    Incens'd the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures,

    Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso,

    They have bereft; and do pronounce by me

    Ling'ring perdition, worse than any death

    Can be at once, shall step by step attend

    You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from-

    Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls

    Upon your heads-is nothing but heart's sorrow,

    And a clear life ensuing.



        He vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music, enter

        the SHAPES again, and dance, with mocks and mows,

                and carrying out the table



  PROSPERO. Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou

    Perform'd, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring. 

    Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated

    In what thou hadst to say; so, with good life

    And observation strange, my meaner ministers

    Their several kinds have done. My high charms work,

    And these mine enemies are all knit up

    In their distractions. They now are in my pow'r;

    And in these fits I leave them, while I visit

    Young Ferdinand, whom they suppose is drown'd,

    And his and mine lov'd darling.                   Exit above

  GONZALO. I' th' name of something holy, sir, why stand you

    In this strange stare?

  ALONSO. O, it is monstrous, monstrous!

    Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it;

    The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder,

    That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'd

    The name of Prosper; it did bass my trespass.

    Therefore my son i' th' ooze is bedded; and

    I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded,

    And with him there lie mudded.                          Exit

  SEBASTIAN. But one fiend at a time, 

    I'll fight their legions o'er.

  ANTONIO. I'll be thy second.      Exeunt SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO

  GONZALO. All three of them are desperate; their great guilt,

    Like poison given to work a great time after,

    Now gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you,

    That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly,

    And hinder them from what this ecstasy

    May now provoke them to.

  ADRIAN. Follow, I pray you.                             Exeunt









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ACT IV. SCENE 1



Before PROSPERO'S cell



Enter PROSPERO, FERDINAND, and MIRANDA



  PROSPERO. If I have too austerely punish'd you,

    Your compensation makes amends; for

    Have given you here a third of mine own life,

    Or that for which I live; who once again

    I tender to thy hand. All thy vexations

    Were but my trials of thy love, and thou

    Hast strangely stood the test; here, afore heaven,

    I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand!

    Do not smile at me that I boast her off,

    For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise,

    And make it halt behind her.

  FERDINAND. I do believe it

    Against an oracle.

  PROSPERO. Then, as my gift, and thine own acquisition

    Wort'hily purchas'd, take my daughter. But

    If thou dost break her virgin-knot before

    All sanctimonious ceremonies may 

    With full and holy rite be minist'red,

    No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall

    To make this contract grow; but barren hate,

    Sour-ey'd disdain, and discord, shall bestrew

    The union of your bed with weeds so loathly

    That you shall hate it both. Therefore take heed,

    As Hymen's lamps shall light you.

  FERDINAND. As I hope

    For quiet days, fair issue, and long life,

    With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den,

    The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion

    Our worser genius can, shall never melt

    Mine honour into lust, to take away

    The edge of that day's celebration,

    When I shall think or Phoebus' steeds are founder'd

    Or Night kept chain'd below.

  PROSPERO. Fairly spoke.

    Sit, then, and talk with her; she is thine own.

    What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel!

 

                           Enter ARIEL



  ARIEL. What would my potent master? Here I am.

  PROSPERO. Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service

    Did worthily perform; and I must use you

    In such another trick. Go bring the rabble,

    O'er whom I give thee pow'r, here to this place.

    Incite them to quick motion; for I must

    Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple

    Some vanity of mine art; it is my promise,

    And they expect it from me.

  ARIEL. Presently?

  PROSPERO. Ay, with a twink.

  ARIEL. Before you can say 'come' and 'go,'

    And breathe twice, and cry 'so, so,'

    Each one, tripping on his toe,

    Will be here with mop and mow.

    Do you love me, master? No?

  PROSPERO. Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Do not approach

    Till thou dost hear me call. 

  ARIEL. Well! I conceive.                                  Exit

  PROSPERO. Look thou be true; do not give dalliance

    Too much the rein; the strongest oaths are straw

    To th' fire i' th' blood. Be more abstemious,

    Or else good night your vow!

  FERDINAND. I warrant you, sir,

    The white cold virgin snow upon my heart

    Abates the ardour of my liver.

  PROSPERO. Well!

    Now come, my Ariel, bring a corollary,

    Rather than want a spirit; appear, and pertly.

    No tongue! All eyes! Be silent.                 [Soft music]



                         Enter IRIS



  IRIS. Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas

    Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and pease;

    Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,

    And flat meads thatch'd with stover, them to keep;

    Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims, 

    Which spongy April at thy hest betrims,

    To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom groves,

    Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves,

    Being lass-lorn; thy pole-clipt vineyard;

    And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky hard,

    Where thou thyself dost air-the Queen o' th' sky,

    Whose wat'ry arch and messenger am I,

    Bids thee leave these; and with her sovereign grace,

    Here on this grass-plot, in this very place,

    To come and sport. Her peacocks fly amain.

                                      [JUNO descends in her car]

    Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.



                        Enter CERES



  CERES. Hail, many-coloured messenger, that ne'er

    Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter;

    Who, with thy saffron wings, upon my flow'rs

    Diffusest honey drops, refreshing show'rs;

    And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown 

    My bosky acres and my unshrubb'd down,

    Rich scarf to my proud earth-why hath thy Queen

    Summon'd me hither to this short-grass'd green?

  IRIS. A contract of true love to celebrate,

    And some donation freely to estate

    On the blest lovers.

  CERES. Tell me, heavenly bow,

    If Venus or her son, as thou dost know,

    Do now attend the Queen? Since they did plot

    The means that dusky Dis my daughter got,

    Her and her blind boy's scandal'd company

    I have forsworn.

  IRIS. Of her society

    Be not afraid. I met her Deity

    Cutting the clouds towards Paphos, and her son

    Dove-drawn with her. Here thought they to have done

    Some wanton charm upon this man and maid,

    Whose vows are that no bed-rite shall be paid

    Till Hymen's torch be lighted; but in vain.

    Mars's hot minion is return'd again; 

    Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows,

    Swears he will shoot no more, but play with sparrows,

    And be a boy right out.                       [JUNO alights]

  CERES. Highest Queen of State,

    Great Juno, comes; I know her by her gait.

  JUNO. How does my bounteous sister? Go with me

    To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be,

    And honour'd in their issue.                     [They sing]

  JUNO. Honour, riches, marriage-blessing,

    Long continuance, and increasing,

    Hourly joys be still upon you!

    Juno sings her blessings on you.

  CERES. Earth's increase, foison plenty,

    Barns and gamers never empty;

    Vines with clust'ring bunches growing,

    Plants with goodly burden bowing;

    Spring come to you at the farthest,

    In the very end of harvest!

    Scarcity and want shall shun you,

    Ceres' blessing so is on you. 

  FERDINAND. This is a most majestic vision, and

    Harmonious charmingly. May I be bold

    To think these spirits?

  PROSPERO. Spirits, which by mine art

    I have from their confines call'd to enact

    My present fancies.

  FERDINAND. Let me live here ever;

    So rare a wond'red father and a wise

    Makes this place Paradise.

           [JUNO and CERES whisper, and send IRIS on employment]

  PROSPERO. Sweet now, silence;

    Juno and Ceres whisper seriously.

    There's something else to do; hush, and be mute,

    Or else our spell is marr'd.

  IRIS. You nymphs, call'd Naiads, of the wind'ring brooks,

    With your sedg'd crowns and ever harmless looks,

    Leave your crisp channels, and on this green land

    Answer your summons; Juno does command.

    Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate

    A contract of true love; be not too late. 



                      Enter certain NYMPHS



    You sun-burnt sicklemen, of August weary,

    Come hither from the furrow, and be merry;

    Make holiday; your rye-straw hats put on,

    And these fresh nymphs encounter every one

    In country footing.



        Enter certain REAPERS, properly habited; they join

         with the NYMPHS in a graceful dance; towards the

         end whereof PROSPERO starts suddenly, and speaks,

          after which, to a strange, hollow, and confused

                  noise, they heavily vanish



  PROSPERO.  [Aside]  I had forgot that foul conspiracy

    Of the beast Caliban and his confederates

    Against my life; the minute of their plot

    Is almost come.  [To the SPIRITS]  Well done; avoid; no

    more! 

  FERDINAND. This is strange; your father's in some passion

    That works him strongly.

  MIRANDA. Never till this day

    Saw I him touch'd with anger so distemper'd.

  PROSPERO. You do look, my son, in a mov'd sort,

    As if you were dismay'd; be cheerful, sir.

    Our revels now are ended. These our actors,

    As I foretold you, were all spirits, and

    Are melted into air, into thin air;

    And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,

    The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,

    The solemn temples, the great globe itself,

    Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,

    And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,

    Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff

    As dreams are made on; and our little life

    Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd;

    Bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled;

    Be not disturb'd with my infirmity.

    If you be pleas'd, retire into my cell 

    And there repose; a turn or two I'll walk

    To still my beating mind.

  FERDINAND, MIRANDA. We wish your peace.                 Exeunt

  PROSPERO. Come, with a thought. I thank thee, Ariel; come.



                       Enter ARIEL



  ARIEL. Thy thoughts I cleave to. What's thy pleasure?

  PROSPERO. Spirit,

    We must prepare to meet with Caliban.

  ARIEL. Ay, my commander. When I presented 'Ceres.'

    I thought to have told thee of it; but I fear'd

    Lest I might anger thee.

  PROSPERO. Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets?

  ARIEL. I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking;

    So full of valour that they smote the air

    For breathing in their faces; beat the ground

    For kissing of their feet; yet always bending

    Towards their project. Then I beat my tabor,

    At which like unback'd colts they prick'd their ears, 

    Advanc'd their eyelids, lifted up their noses

    As they smelt music; so I charm'd their cars,

    That calf-like they my lowing follow'd through

    Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss, and thorns,

    Which ent'red their frail shins. At last I left them

    I' th' filthy mantled pool beyond your cell,

    There dancing up to th' chins, that the foul lake

    O'erstunk their feet.

  PROSPERO. This was well done, my bird.

    Thy shape invisible retain thou still.

    The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither

    For stale to catch these thieves.

  ARIEL. I go, I go.                                        Exit

  PROSPERO. A devil, a born devil, on whose nature

    Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains,

    Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost;

    And as with age his body uglier grows,

    So his mind cankers. I will plague them all,

    Even to roaring.

 

       Re-enter ARIEL, loaden with glistering apparel, &c.



    Come, hang them on this line.

                          [PROSPERO and ARIEL remain, invisible]



         Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, all wet



  CALIBAN. Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not

    Hear a foot fall; we now are near his cell.

  STEPHANO. Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless

    fairy, has done little better than play'd the Jack with us.

  TRINCULO. Monster, I do smell all horse-piss at which my

    nose is in great indignation.

  STEPHANO. So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I should

    take a displeasure against you, look you-

  TRINCULO. Thou wert but a lost monster.

  CALIBAN. Good my lord, give me thy favour still.

    Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee to

    Shall hoodwink this mischance; therefore speak softly.

    All's hush'd as midnight yet. 

  TRINCULO. Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool!

  STEPHANO. There is not only disgrace and dishonour in

    that, monster, but an infinite loss.

  TRINCULO. That's more to me than my wetting; yet this is

    your harmless fairy, monster.

  STEPHANO. I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er

    ears for my labour.

  CALIBAN. Prithee, my king, be quiet. Seest thou here,

    This is the mouth o' th' cell; no noise, and enter.

    Do that good mischief which may make this island

    Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban,

    For aye thy foot-licker.

  STEPHANO. Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody

    thoughts.

  TRINCULO. O King Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano!

    Look what a wardrobe here is for thee!

  CALIBAN. Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash.

  TRINCULO. O, ho, monster; we know what belongs to a

    frippery. O King Stephano!

  STEPHANO. Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I'll 

    have that gown.

  TRINCULO. Thy Grace shall have it.

  CALIBAN. The dropsy drown this fool! What do you mean

    To dote thus on such luggage? Let 't alone,

    And do the murder first. If he awake,

    From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches;

    Make us strange stuff.

  STEPHANO. Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line, is not

    this my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under the line; now,

    jerkin, you are like to lose your hair, and prove a bald

    jerkin.

  TRINCULO. Do, do. We steal by line and level, an't like

    your Grace.

  STEPHANO. I thank thee for that jest; here's a garment

    for't. Wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king of

    this country. 'Steal by line and level' is an excellent

    pass of pate; there's another garmet for't.

  TRINCULO. Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers,

    and away with the rest.

  CALIBAN. I will have none on't. We shall lose our time, 

    And all be turn'd to barnacles, or to apes

    With foreheads villainous low.

  STEPHANO. Monster, lay-to your fingers; help to bear this

    away where my hogshead of wine is, or I'll turn you out

    of my kingdom. Go to, carry this.

  TRINCULO. And this.

  STEPHANO. Ay, and this.



          A noise of hunters beard. Enter divers SPIRITS, in

             shape of dogs and hounds, bunting them about;

                   PROSPERO and ARIEL setting them on



  PROSPERO. Hey, Mountain, hey!

  ARIEL. Silver! there it goes, Silver!

  PROSPERO. Fury, Fury! There, Tyrant, there! Hark, hark!

                [CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO are driven out]

    Go charge my goblins that they grind their joints

    With dry convulsions, shorten up their sinews

    With aged cramps, and more pinch-spotted make them

    Than pard or cat o' mountain. 

  ARIEL. Hark, they roar.

  PROSPERO. Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour

    Lies at my mercy all mine enemies.

    Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou

    Shalt have the air at freedom; for a little

    Follow, and do me service.                            Exeunt









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ACT V. SCENE 1



Before PROSPERO'S cell



Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes, and ARIEL



  PROSPERO. Now does my project gather to a head;

    My charms crack not, my spirits obey; and time

    Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day?

  ARIEL. On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord,

    You said our work should cease.

  PROSPERO. I did say so,

    When first I rais'd the tempest. Say, my spirit,

    How fares the King and 's followers?

  ARIEL. Confin'd together

    In the same fashion as you gave in charge;

    Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir,

    In the line-grove which weather-fends your cell;

    They cannot budge till your release. The King,

    His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted,

    And the remainder mourning over them,

    Brim full of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly

    Him you term'd, sir, 'the good old lord, Gonzalo'; 

    His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops

    From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works 'em

    That if you now beheld them your affections

    Would become tender.

  PROSPERO. Dost thou think so, spirit?

  ARIEL. Mine would, sir, were I human.

  PROSPERO. And mine shall.

    Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling

    Of their afflictions, and shall not myself,

    One of their kind, that relish all as sharply,

    Passion as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art?

    Though with their high wrongs I am struck to th' quick,

    Yet with my nobler reason 'gainst my fury

    Do I take part; the rarer action is

    In virtue than in vengeance; they being penitent,

    The sole drift of my purpose doth extend

    Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel;

    My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore,

    And they shall be themselves.

  ARIEL. I'll fetch them, sir.                              Exit 

  PROSPERO. Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and

    groves;

    And ye that on the sands with printless foot

    Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him

    When he comes back; you demi-puppets that

    By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,

    Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime

    Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice

    To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid-

    Weak masters though ye be-I have be-dimm'd

    The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,

    And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault

    Set roaring war. To the dread rattling thunder

    Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak

    With his own bolt; the strong-bas'd promontory

    Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluck'd up

    The pine and cedar. Graves at my command

    Have wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and let 'em forth,

    By my so potent art. But this rough magic

    I here abjure; and, when I have requir'd 

    Some heavenly music-which even now I do-

    To work mine end upon their senses that

    This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff,

    Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,

    And deeper than did ever plummet sound

    I'll drown my book.                            [Solem music]



            Here enters ARIEL before; then ALONSO, with

          frantic gesture, attended by GONZALO; SEBASTIAN

           and ANTONIO in like manner, attended by ADRIAN

           and FRANCISCO. They all enter the circle which

          PROSPERO had made, and there stand charm'd; which

                    PROSPERO observing, speaks



    A solemn air, and the best comforter

    To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains,

    Now useless, boil'd within thy skull! There stand,

    For you are spell-stopp'd.

    Holy Gonzalo, honourable man,

    Mine eyes, ev'n sociable to the show of thine, 

    Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace,

    And as the morning steals upon the night,

    Melting the darkness, so their rising senses

    Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle

    Their clearer reason. O good Gonzalo,

    My true preserver, and a loyal sir

    To him thou follow'st! I will pay thy graces

    Home both in word and deed. Most cruelly

    Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter;

    Thy brother was a furtherer in the act.

    Thou art pinch'd for't now, Sebastian. Flesh and blood,

    You, brother mine, that entertain'd ambition,

    Expell'd remorse and nature, who, with Sebastian-

    Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong-

    Would here have kill'd your king, I do forgive thee,

    Unnatural though thou art. Their understanding

    Begins to swell, and the approaching tide

    Will shortly fill the reasonable shore

    That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them

    That yet looks on me, or would know me. Ariel, 

    Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell;           Exit ARIEL

    I will discase me, and myself present

    As I was sometime Milan. Quickly, spirit

    Thou shalt ere long be free.



        ARIEL, on returning, sings and helps to attire him



    Where the bee sucks, there suck I;

    In a cowslip's bell I lie;

    There I couch when owls do cry.

    On the bat's back I do fly

    After summer merrily.

    Merrily, merrily shall I live now

    Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.



  PROSPERO. Why, that's my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee;

    But yet thou shalt have freedom. So, so, so.

    To the King's ship, invisible as thou art;

    There shalt thou find the mariners asleep

    Under the hatches; the master and the boatswain 

    Being awake, enforce them to this place;

    And presently, I prithee.

  ARIEL. I drink the air before me, and return

    Or ere your pulse twice beat.                           Exit

  GONZALO. All torment, trouble, wonder and amazement,

    Inhabits here. Some heavenly power guide us

    Out of this fearful country!

  PROSPERO. Behold, Sir King,

    The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero.

    For more assurance that a living prince

    Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body;

    And to thee and thy company I bid

    A hearty welcome.

  ALONSO. Whe'er thou be'st he or no,

    Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me,

    As late I have been, I not know. Thy pulse

    Beats, as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee,

    Th' affliction of my mind amends, with which,

    I fear, a madness held me. This must crave-

    An if this be at all-a most strange story. 

    Thy dukedom I resign, and do entreat

    Thou pardon me my wrongs. But how should Prospero

    Be living and be here?

  PROSPERO. First, noble friend,

    Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot

    Be measur'd or confin'd.

  GONZALO. Whether this be

    Or be not, I'll not swear.

  PROSPERO. You do yet taste

    Some subtleties o' th' isle, that will not let you

    Believe things certain. Welcome, my friends all!

    [Aside to SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO]  But you, my brace of

      lords, were I so minded,

    I here could pluck his Highness' frown upon you,

    And justify you traitors; at this time

    I will tell no tales.

  SEBASTIAN.  [Aside]  The devil speaks in him.

  PROSPERO. No.

    For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother

    Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive 

    Thy rankest fault-all of them; and require

    My dukedom of thee, which perforce I know

    Thou must restore.

  ALONSO. If thou beest Prospero,

    Give us particulars of thy preservation;

    How thou hast met us here, whom three hours since

    Were wreck'd upon this shore; where I have lost-

    How sharp the point of this remembrance is!-

    My dear son Ferdinand.

  PROSPERO. I am woe for't, sir.

  ALONSO. Irreparable is the loss; and patience

    Says it is past her cure.

  PROSPERO. I rather think

    You have not sought her help, of whose soft grace

    For the like loss I have her sovereign aid,

    And rest myself content.

  ALONSO. You the like loss!

  PROSPERO. As great to me as late; and, supportable

    To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker

    Than you may call to comfort you, for I 

    Have lost my daughter.

  ALONSO. A daughter!

    O heavens, that they were living both in Naples,

    The King and Queen there! That they were, I wish

    Myself were mudded in that oozy bed

    Where my son lies. When did you lose your daughter?

  PROSPERO. In this last tempest. I perceive these lords

    At this encounter do so much admire

    That they devour their reason, and scarce think

    Their eyes do offices of truth, their words

    Are natural breath; but, howsoe'er you have

    Been justled from your senses, know for certain

    That I am Prospero, and that very duke

    Which was thrust forth of Milan; who most strangely

    Upon this shore, where you were wrecked, was landed

    To be the lord on't. No more yet of this;

    For 'tis a chronicle of day by day,

    Not a relation for a breakfast, nor

    Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir;

    This cell's my court; here have I few attendants, 

    And subjects none abroad; pray you, look in.

    My dukedom since you have given me again,

    I will requite you with as good a thing;

    At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye

    As much as me my dukedom.



          Here PROSPERO discovers FERDINAND and MIRANDA,

                      playing at chess



  MIRANDA. Sweet lord, you play me false.

  FERDINAND. No, my dearest love,

    I would not for the world.

  MIRANDA. Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle

    And I would call it fair play.

  ALONSO. If this prove

    A vision of the island, one dear son

    Shall I twice lose.

  SEBASTIAN. A most high miracle!

  FERDINAND. Though the seas threaten, they are merciful;

    I have curs'd them without cause.                   [Kneels] 

  ALONSO. Now all the blessings

    Of a glad father compass thee about!

    Arise, and say how thou cam'st here.

  MIRANDA. O, wonder!

    How many goodly creatures are there here!

    How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world

    That has such people in't!

  PROSPERO. 'Tis new to thee.

  ALONSO. What is this maid with whom thou wast at play?

    Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours;

    Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us,

    And brought us thus together?

  FERDINAND. Sir, she is mortal;

    But by immortal Providence she's mine.

    I chose her when I could not ask my father

    For his advice, nor thought I had one. She

    Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan,

    Of whom so often I have heard renown

    But never saw before; of whom I have

    Receiv'd a second life; and second father 

    This lady makes him to me.

  ALONSO. I am hers.

    But, O, how oddly will it sound that I

    Must ask my child forgiveness!

  PROSPERO. There, sir, stop;

    Let us not burden our remembrances with

    A heaviness that's gone.

  GONZALO. I have inly wept,

    Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you gods,

    And on this couple drop a blessed crown;

    For it is you that have chalk'd forth the way

    Which brought us hither.

  ALONSO. I say, Amen, Gonzalo!

  GONZALO. Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue

    Should become Kings of Naples? O, rejoice

    Beyond a common joy, and set it down

    With gold on lasting pillars: in one voyage

    Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis;

    And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife

    Where he himself was lost; Prospero his dukedom 

    In a poor isle; and all of us ourselves

    When no man was his own.

  ALONSO.  [To FERDINAND and MIRANDA]  Give me your

    hands.

    Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart

    That doth not wish you joy.

  GONZALO. Be it so. Amen!



           Re-enter ARIEL, with the MASTER and BOATSWAIN

                     amazedly following



    O look, sir; look, sir! Here is more of us!

    I prophesied, if a gallows were on land,

    This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy,

    That swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on shore?

    Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news?

  BOATSWAIN. The best news is that we have safely found

    Our King and company; the next, our ship-

    Which but three glasses since we gave out split-

    Is tight and yare, and bravely rigg'd, as when 

    We first put out to sea.

  ARIEL.  [Aside to PROSPERO]  Sir, all this service

    Have I done since I went.

  PROSPERO.  [Aside to ARIEL]  My tricksy spirit!

  ALONSO. These are not natural events; they strengthen

    From strange to stranger. Say, how came you hither?

  BOATSWAIN. If I did think, sir, I were well awake,

    I'd strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep,

    And-how, we know not-all clapp'd under hatches;

    Where, but even now, with strange and several noises

    Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains,

    And moe diversity of sounds, all horrible,

    We were awak'd; straightway at liberty;

    Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld

    Our royal, good, and gallant ship; our master

    Cap'ring to eye her. On a trice, so please you,

    Even in a dream, were we divided from them,

    And were brought moping hither.

  ARIEL.  [Aside to PROSPERO]  Was't well done?

  PROSPERO.  [Aside to ARIEL]  Bravely, my diligence. Thou 

    shalt be free.

  ALONSO. This is as strange a maze as e'er men trod;

    And there is in this business more than nature

    Was ever conduct of. Some oracle

    Must rectify our knowledge.

  PROSPERO. Sir, my liege,

    Do not infest your mind with beating on

    The strangeness of this business; at pick'd leisure,

    Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you,

    Which to you shall seem probable, of every

    These happen'd accidents; till when, be cheerful

    And think of each thing well.  [Aside to ARIEL]  Come

    hither, spirit;

    Set Caliban and his companions free;

    Untie the spell.  [Exit ARIEL]  How fares my gracious sir?

    There are yet missing of your company

    Some few odd lads that you remember not.



         Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and

 

  TRINCULO, in their stolen apparel

  STEPHANO. Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man

    take care for himself; for all is but fortune. Coragio,

    bully-monster, coragio!

  TRINCULO. If these be true spies which I wear in my head,

    here's a goodly sight.

  CALIBAN. O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed!

    How fine my master is! I am afraid

    He will chastise me.

  SEBASTIAN. Ha, ha!

    What things are these, my lord Antonio?

    Will money buy'em?

  ANTONIO. Very like; one of them

    Is a plain fish, and no doubt marketable.

  PROSPERO. Mark but the badges of these men, my lords,

    Then say if they be true. This mis-shapen knave-

    His mother was a witch, and one so strong

    That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs,

    And deal in her command without her power.

    These three have robb'd me; and this demi-devil- 

    For he's a bastard one-had plotted with them

    To take my life. Two of these fellows you

    Must know and own; this thing of darkness I

    Acknowledge mine.

  CALIBAN. I shall be pinch'd to death.

  ALONSO. Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler?

  SEBASTIAN. He is drunk now; where had he wine?

  ALONSO. And Trinculo is reeling ripe; where should they

    Find this grand liquor that hath gilded 'em?

    How cam'st thou in this pickle?

  TRINCULO. I have been in such a pickle since I saw you

    last that, I fear me, will never out of my bones. I

    shall not fear fly-blowing.

  SEBASTIAN. Why, how now, Stephano!

  STEPHANO. O, touch me not; I am not Stephano, but a

    cramp.

  PROSPERO. You'd be king o' the isle, sirrah?

  STEPHANO. I should have been a sore one, then.

  ALONSO.  [Pointing to CALIBAN]  This is as strange a thing

    as e'er I look'd on. 

  PROSPERO. He is as disproportioned in his manners

    As in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell;

    Take with you your companions; as you look

    To have my pardon, trim it handsomely.

  CALIBAN. Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise hereafter,

    And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass

    Was I to take this drunkard for a god,

    And worship this dull fool!

  PROSPERO. Go to; away!

  ALONSO. Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it.

  SEBASTIAN. Or stole it, rather.

                          Exeunt CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO

  PROSPERO. Sir, I invite your Highness and your train

    To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest

    For this one night; which, part of it, I'll waste

    With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it

    Go quick away-the story of my life,

    And the particular accidents gone by

    Since I came to this isle. And in the morn

    I'll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples, 

    Where I have hope to see the nuptial

    Of these our dear-belov'd solemnized,

    And thence retire me to my Milan, where

    Every third thought shall be my grave.

  ALONSO. I long

    To hear the story of your life, which must

    Take the ear strangely.

  PROSPERO. I'll deliver all;

    And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales,

    And sail so expeditious that shall catch

    Your royal fleet far off.  [Aside to ARIEL]  My Ariel,

      chick,

    That is thy charge. Then to the elements

    Be free, and fare thou well!-Please you, draw near.

                                                          Exeunt







EPILOGUE

                             EPILOGUE

                        Spoken by PROSPERO



          Now my charms are all o'erthrown,

          And what strength I have's mine own,

          Which is most faint. Now 'tis true,

          I must be here confin'd by you,

          Or sent to Naples. Let me not,

          Since I have my dukedom got,

          And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell

          In this bare island by your spell;

          But release me from my bands

          With the help of your good hands.

          Gentle breath of yours my sails

          Must fill, or else my project fails,

          Which was to please. Now I want

          Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;

          And my ending is despair

          Unless I be reliev'd by prayer,

          Which pierces so that it assaults

          Mercy itself, and frees all faults.

          As you from crimes would pardon'd be, 

          Let your indulgence set me free.



THE END











<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS

PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY

WITH PERMISSION.  ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE

DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS

PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED

COMMERCIALLY.  PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY

SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>>











End of this Etext of The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Tempest